


Who Leaves Paradise?

by WeAreStarStuff



Series: Conquest of Spaces (Sci-Fi AU) [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crowley and Aziraphale adopt Adam and Warlock, Intergalactic Criminal!Crowley, M/M, Sci-Fi AU, Science Fantasy, Space Prince!Aziraphale, vague space magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeAreStarStuff/pseuds/WeAreStarStuff
Summary: Prince Aziraphale has a perfect life in the sky city of Elysium until his fiance, king Gabriel forces him to make an impossible choice. He is forced to turn fugitive with an impossible boy and his animal companion at his side. out of options, Aziraphale is forced to put his trust in Crowley, an intergalactic criminal.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens) (one sided)
Series: Conquest of Spaces (Sci-Fi AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860088
Comments: 30
Kudos: 114





	Who Leaves Paradise?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Kainnanthi on tumblr and beckers522 for the beta. or as i called it, coralling a toddler with a knife ;)

It was a nice day. Though it was rather difficult to have _bad_ weather in a floating city above the clouds.

The city of Elysium was a technological marvel even among other sky cities. The few visitors that actually got to see it were astounded at how smoothly it ran, how verdant the gardens were, and the level of technological advancements that were made constantly. Not to mention the overall level of plenty. It truly was a glittering jewel in the crown of the seven systems. It was no wonder why it was named for a mythological paradise.

Aziraphale, Prince of the Third Sphere had woken up to such a morning. He ate a leisurely breakfast and picked out a simple outfit from his expansive wardrobe. Elegant and white, with gold accents. He decided the Alterean gold made him look authoritative and official. And since he was engaged to marry King Gabriel, he really needed to look as authoritative and official as he could these days. He still didn’t really _feel_ authoritative and official, but he hoped it would come to him in time. Preferably before the big day.

Lesser princes of the Third Sphere aren’t normally noticed by rulers of the refined First Sphere, but Aziraphale’s command of the Aether was unprecedented.

All royals could command the Aether to varying extents, but the Third Sphere was the lowest. Even princes of this Sphere normally had a lackluster ability. Most of the Third Sphere’s denizens had little to no ability. Most were simply lowborn or foundlings, taken in from a world that wanted nothing to do with them.

In all respects, Aziraphale should have been as unremarkable as his predecessors. But through some strange quirk of luck, he managed to have a spark of real talent. And at the behest of his Guardian, the Lady Raphael, he was tutored until he was honed into one of the best Wielders in Elysium.

Eventually, his abilities caught the attention of the First Sphere. Once again Lady Raphael stepped in, and a marriage contract was drawn up.

In a month’s time he would be married and given more political power than he ever could have dreamed. And one day he and Gabriel would undergo the splicing ritual and have immensely powerful fledglings to raise.

And not a single person had asked how he felt about any of it.

He shook the maudlin thoughts from his head as he reached the shadow of the Royal Library.

One of his personal projects was educating promising children in the proper use of Aether. He saw no reason why one’s birth meant they couldn’t be their best selves, with a little polish.

“Prince Aziraphale!” Adam Young came running across the courtyard, flowers blooming in his footsteps. The Young family had been gardeners to the Royal Botanical Gardens with no Wielding power whatsoever for generations, and now it seemed like genetics were trying to make up for that lack by making Adam extraordinary.

He leaped into the air like gravity was a mere joke to him, most likely using a glider charm, and Aziraphale caught him.

“Well, good morning Adam!” He said, “I see you’re as energetic as ever.”

“I taught Dog to walk on his hind legs!” The furry white quadruped with brown spots trailing after Adam--presumably a “dog”--yapped, as if confirming the boy’s tale.

“With or without Aether?”

“Without! I'm really trying, Mr. Aziraphale!” Aziraphale looked at the child skeptically. One of the problems with learning to Wield was that it could be just a little too easy for some. Once you learned how to do something with Aether, it was almost impossible not to be tempted into the easy way each time. And before you know it, you end up passed out somewhere. Adam, for one, was especially prone to fainting spells.

“Well, let’s get you inside. I think we’ll practice those breathing exercises.”

The boy ran inside and landed on a pillow in the center of the library with a loud plop.

Aziraphale moved to follow him but was stopped by a hand holding a bouquet of bright red flowers.

“Hello Aziraphale!” Gabriel had materialized from--well, the Aether. “How’s my handsome fiancé? Oh! I see you’re wearing the brooch I gave you! It looks fetching on you. I knew it would.”

He awkwardly embraced Aziraphale in a tight, claustrophobic hug.

Aziraphale forced a smile to his face. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault for being clingy. There was no reason why this marriage couldn’t still work out.

“I am well, Gabriel. And you look dashing as ever.”

Gabriel held his arms out to show off his resplendent silver and lilac robes. “Thank you! The Third Sphere may not have much going for it, but the tailors are excellent!”

“Well--thank you for the flowers. They’re ever so lovely! But I’m afraid I must get on with Adam’s lessons. The boy will probably turn the pillows to candy if I’m gone too long.” Aziraphale tried to move, but Gabriel blocked his entry.

“That’s just what I’m here to talk to you about, actually.”

“Adam? Well, he’s very promising! Why, in a few years he might even be the first commoner to be on the Council! He-“

“He can’t exist.”

Aziraphale blinked at that. “But he does exist. He’s currently nibbling on a cushion.”

“No. I mean he _can’t_ _exist_. Do you know what would happen if a commoner had enough power to be on the Council?”

“Why, I can only imagine good things! The Council could use a fresh perspective, don’t you think?”

“If just any Aethereal could hold that kind of power, then what is the point of us royals?! We’ll have a revolution on our hands!” Noticing Aziraphale’s dismayed expression, Gabriel’s voice softened. “Listen, this is no big deal. Kids like him just pop up sometimes. So we just make them disappear. They’re just freaks and outliers.”

“So what do you need me for?” Aziraphale asked, his voice cracking. “Why would you possibly tell me this?”

“We’re going to be married soon. I figured I should let you in on some family secrets. Besides, I was thinking you could put your theory about the strings to use.”

Early in their courtship, Aziraphale had shared with Gabriel his theory that everything in the universe was interconnected like a web, and how one might be able manipulate one or two of these Aetherial-like strings and change the nature of a thing. One could possibly even unmake the thing in question.

He really should have realized this was the usage Gabriel would be attracted to. It’s just that Gabriel had seemed to be so nice, and had asked questions like he was truly interested in Aziraphale’s work, and the whole thing had given him such _hope_ for their impending nuptials! He should have kept his mouth shut.

But how could he have foreseen his research being used like this? _We’re meant to be the good guys, for heaven’s sake!_

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “We _are_.” (Oops, he must have said that last part out loud.) So ‘for heaven’s sake’, _delete the boy_.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words crumbled to ash on the wind before he could voice them. If he protested here, he realized, Gabriel would immediately restrain him and kill the boy himself. And that was the best case scenario. Other scenarios were even worse. He could be charged with _treason_! And then who would look after his people?

Lady Raphael could take up stewardship again. But that was if and only _if_ House Fell could maintain its hold on the principality. If it could not, Aziraphale’s apportion of the Third Sphere would be gifted away to some other prince or courtier that had curried favor with Gabriel and his siblings. He’d heard Gabriel’s cruel brother Sandalphon had expressed an interest in it, and Aziraphale could _not_ allow that to happen. And no matter what happened, Adam would still be dead and _it would be his fault!_

“I see.” He whispered instead. “Please leave me. I just--I don’t want you to see this.”

Gabriel grinned. “No witnesses. Good idea. You’re already thinking like one of us! I’m gonna go pay a visit to the boy’s parents. How about we meet for dinner? Somewhere classy. How would that make you feel?”

Aziraphale forced a smile. “I’d like that.”

And Gabriel was gone. The flowers he left felt like lead in Aziraphale’s hands.

☆彡

Adam was seated on the pillow with his eyes closed, practicing breathing from the diaphragm. In through the nose, and out through the mouth. His back, however, was a stiff hard line. Like he was forcing himself to be relaxed. Like he was waiting for Aziraphale to make a decision.

There was nothing else for it. He would have to unmake the boy, as horrific as that seemed, and retain control of his principality. The “needs of the many”, and all that implied. He would go out for dinner with his fiancé tonight and marry him next month. Raise a family with him, and be a perfect husband. And everything would be _perfect_! And _happy_! And _he_ would be perfect and happy!

Because if not, then what was the point?

Aziraphale reached into the Aether and tried to visualize the strings. There they were. They were gold, though that could just be in his mind’s eye. Gold felt apropos. The color of ichor. A color of warning. _Stop. You’ve broken skin. You’ve gone too far._

His wrist vibrated, and the golden web jerked out of his control and disintegrated.

He looked down at his smartcuff. Gabriel insisted he get one. Aziraphale had been reluctant. There was something off-putting about the smooth, enamelled band, as if an invisible chain was attached to it.

But it had its moments. His friend Tracy had just messaged him.

_Are we still on for tea this afternoon?_

Tracy. A sweet lady with very little power, but a wicked sense of humor.

How could he look her in the eye if he went through with this? How could he even look at _himself_ after going through with such an action? He doesn’t kill _children_!

 _Not one child_? Asked a traitorous voice in his head. _Not one child to save the rest of your people?_

No. No, because it wouldn’t stop there. It would be a stepping stone to an Aziraphale he wouldn’t recognize. An Aziraphale his people _wouldn’t_ be safe from.

If this was the kind of mate Gabriel wanted, then Gabriel could _get_ _stuffed_.

 _Dear Tracy_ , he thought, _she will never know just what she just saved me from._

_I’m sorry my dear, but I’m afraid something has come up and we will have to put our tea on hold indefinitely._  
_-A_

He could only hope Raphael was still on top of her game (foolish of him; of course she was. Plans within plans, that lady). And that his people could one day forgive him for the choice he made today.

“Come along, Adam! Our lesson has been canceled, I’m afraid.”

★彡

The infamous intergalactic criminal Crowley was in his element. He was sitting at a table at the nicest club in town, imbibing something pink and sugary. Best of all, it was not on his tab.

It almost made up for the undesirable company of his benefactors who sat across the table from him. Hastur and Ligur. Dukes of the Great Black Steel City of Tartarus. Leaders of very powerful clans, and technically his first cousins. Ahhh, family. He did not miss it.

He slouched back, sinking into the vibrant red cushions of the booth.

“We trust you’ve been successful?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He slid the data stick across the table. “Even knocked the lights out in the whole city of Acaire on Persephone on my way out the door.”

Hastur rolled his eyes and muttered about Crowley’s lack of elegance. Strong words for a man who thought wearing _that_ _coat_ in public was a Good Idea. Even Crowley couldn’t pull off a shiny black patent leather trench coat with red and black fake fur trim.

Ligur tapped his cuff to Crowley‘s, transferring payment. No small amount, either. But Crowley wouldn’t have returned to this dreadful world otherwise.

He almost didn’t come back at all this time. But he and his first mate were a little hot these days, and few people were willing to pay his prices. Hastur and Ligur paid well, and he had a mouth to feed. Life was shit that way.

Besides, whatever was actually forcing them to call him home was bound to be interesting.

After a minute of drinking in awkward silence, Crowley rose from his seat. “Well, this has been fun. See you in another ten years, eh?”

“Crowley!” Hastur held out his arm to stop him. “That’s not all we called you here for.”

 _Gotcha_. Crowley hid a grin and sat back down.

“There has been word of a Wielder in Elysium. One with enough power to create new life.”

“Ooh. And you want to use that for your own interests! What’s this got to do with me, though? And would you like me to fetch a scale from a Star Drake while I’m at it?”

“Extracting the Wielder will require _delicacy_. And you have the most experience with keeping a target alive. Live prisoners can be...difficult.” Ligur said, obviously ignoring Crowley’s quip.

"Besides," Hastur interjected, "you have the fewest mutations." 

“Aww. Is this your way of saying you think I'm pretty?”

“We will of course compensate you handsomely for this, Crowley.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Here.” Ligur handed him a tracking fob. “If you do find this person, contact us.”

Crowley nodded and stood, affixing his breathing mask to his face before walking outside. Ugh. Air pollution _and_ family. There were a lot of good reasons why he’d spent most of his childhood trying to build a ship to get him off this rock.

★彡

Sneaking into Elysium wasn’t impossible. Just very, very difficult. Ships coming in and out were few and far between.

 _No one ever wants to leave paradise, after all,_ Crowley thought sardonically.

It took three faked diplomat codes, four bribes, and another computer hack to get him even close to the city. And when all else failed, he took his sleek black speeder, the Bentley 5, in the dead of night to get him into the city proper. The rest afterwards was child’s play. People have a delightful tendency to assume you belong there once you’re actually inside a place.

Twenty four hours later, Crowley had found very little information on this mystery Wielder. Just that the Third Sphere would be the best place to look.

He was still lurking, but now he was starting to attract attention. He was going to have to slink back to tell the Dukes that their miracle guy was just a folktale. There were no Wielders here that could do more with the Arcane than clean the dishes and work spots out of linens.

Then he smelled it. Smoke. Perhaps on other worlds the scent would have been ordinary. Something to ignore. But in an environment as tightly controlled as this one, fires were unusual. And if that wasn’t evidence enough, the way people started hiding indoors and locking up in droves confirmed it. _It seems like there’s trouble in paradise. And these lemmings know it. Let’s see what this is all about, hmm?_

He followed the scent to a servants’ domicile. It was fairly large, and yeah, so was the fire. Nobody was moving to help. Instead, the few people who were still outside were averting their gaze.

Suddenly, a figure in blinding white and gold burst from the scene, holding a violently wriggling bright blue bundle and a knapsack as he bolted. A survivor? Perhaps this was the Arcane Wielder he was looking for? Or at least someone with a brain that wanted off this police-state planet. Either way, he looked rich. It might be worth his while to give the chap a hand.

He seemed to be heading towards the Eastern Gate.

Crowley hopped back into the cockpit of the Bentley 5, and sped after them.

☆彡

Aziraphale’s heart was pounding. What now? The Royal Guard would be looking for them soon, if they weren’t already. Elysium wasn’t that big. He and Adam would eventually be found.

He adjusted the boy in his arms. Adam’s wriggling had decreased since Aziraphale carried him from the flaming wreckage of his family’s quarters. Grief and shock must have exhausted the boy. Now he was just heavy. Aziraphale needed to rest somewhere.

His best bet would be to get offworld. But how? Only a select few had access to interstellar ships. He would have to be First Sphere royalty for that.

_Unless…_

It was simply good manners to keep one’s wings hidden. But of what importance were manners now? Perhaps they could fly away.

Where, though?

They could fly off the edge of the city. Take their chances with whatever was down there. He’d heard there were still people living on the surface, although such things were usually considered myths.

Still, it was a chance. Oh, but the city’s rebound field, right--

A sleek black speeder pulled up in front them.

“Hello, angel face! I thought you could use a lift!” The driver opened the cockpit. He was lithe, with apple red hair cut into a short style. His eyes were covered by thick goggles that put Aziraphale in the mind of romanticized portraits of pilots. He might have thought the man handsome, if not for that comment.

He shouldn’t get an innocent samaritan mixed up with them. He knew this. But he was just a soft prince, not built for adventure, and he sorely needed the rest.

“I’ve got a ship waiting not far from here.” The driver flashed him a wicked grin with a raised eyebrow.

That did nothing to assuage his fear. Was this brash person an unlikely outsider? Or an undercover Royal Guardsman waiting to take him in?

_Did it matter?_

Making his decision, he climbed into the speeder and set Adam comfortably down along one of the bench seats, as the driver closed the cockpit after them.

Dog struggled free from the knapsack when Aziraphale set the bag down on the floor of the speeder, and it settled itself on Adam's lap.

The samaritan frowned at the creature. “Whatever that is had better not shed.”

They had bigger worries, though.

Sandalphon. The Head of the Royal Guard (and his future brother-in-law), flanked by a half dozen others Aziraphale didn’t know, zoomed up in flashy white speeders.

“Right. So, I hope your jalopy can go fast?” He asked nervously.

The samaritan grinned as wide as a mythological snake, and the speeder roared to life.

☆彡

 _Well, at least Adam was enjoying this_ , Aziraphale thought.

The blurred silver of the city around them, careening around hard corners, accompanied by the loud bass heavy music, seemed to be doing wonders for drawing the boy out of his catatonic state. He was even starting to smile as he gripped Dog closer.

Aziraphale on the other hand, felt quite motion sick and not a little terrified.

The one saving grace in this ride was that his mysterious benefactor was managing to avoid colliding with pedestrians. Almost as if he were tickling the Aether into moving peoples’ space in the universe ever so slightly. But surely that was impossible. Only a royal could manipulate the Aether with such ease. If he were royal, Aziraphale had never met him before. And Aziraphale had met them all in the last year.

Clearly, this stranger was from somewhere else. The surface, most likely. A real life boogeyman. Something that absolutely should not exist, let alone come to his aid just when he was thinking about it.

Adam shouldn’t have been able to exist, either. But here he was, existing in spite of everything.

The only thing for it, he supposed, was to just accept that the universe was bigger and connected in ways that were infinitely stranger than he ever thought possible. He decided to simply save his subsequent mental breakdown over the shattering of everything he knew to be true, for Future Aziraphale to deal with.

It beat walking. Or.. well, running. As it were.

The driver reached over, tapping a screen on the panel, and started to speak. “Oi, Number One! We’re gonna need a pick up by the Eastern Departure Gate, if you could put down your game!”

 _“Yeah, yeah.”_ A bored _,_ tinny voice responded _, “are you taking off from a runway for once?”_

He looked behind them; the Royal Guard were still hot on their trail. The leader appeared to have lost some of his entourage though, on that last alleyway the black speeder had only just squeezed through by flipping sideways.

“We’ll be making our own exit, if that’s alright with you!”

“ _Always making friends_. _I’ll see if I can get close_.” The driver tapped the screen again to exit out of the Comms app.

The next corner revealed the city’s edge.

Aziraphale had been frantically cycling through his dwindling options earlier, when he started speculating on a winged glide down to the surface. His newfound companion, however, was currently looking at the rebound field with obvious excitement.

_Oh. Oh no. He wouldn’t!_

“Alright, you two. Things are gonna get a little bit strange right now. Say, angel face. If you have any Occult abilities, would you mind lending me a hand? That rebound field looks pretty nasty.” He offered Aziraphale his upraised hand.

“My abilities aren’t Occult! They’re _Aethereal_!” But he still found himself slipping his hand into the driver’s.

The man faced the rebound field and revved the speeder’s engine.

“ _You’re_ _mad_!” Aziraphale said faintly. Hitting the rebound field at this level of force, they were in all likelihood going to be flung back somewhere in the middle of the city! And presumably die!

“Alright. It’s easy, angel. Just imagine the atoms of the speeder. Are you imagining them?”

Aziraphale nodded, and the driver gave his hand a light, encouraging squeeze.

“Good. Now imagine them spreading out. Okay?”

Aziraphale nodded.

The driver gunned it.

Aziraphale scrunched his eyes closed and clutched the driver’s hand in a crushing grip, waiting for death to claim them.

“Okay. Keep imagining those atoms, angel face! It’s really important now!”

Aziraphale kept his eyes screwed tightly shut until he felt something different beneath him. He relaxed a bit, opening his eyes, and looked around.

They were flying! Outside the city’s limits!

Soon the city that had been their gilt cage shrank into a shining speck of silver and gold behind them. He and Adam kept it in view until neither of them could see anything more.

Aziraphale didn’t have time to think about the new feeling blooming in his chest before a large, sleek black starship rose through the clouds, covered with swirling designs in lurid pinks and oranges.

The side hatch was open and the speeder glided into it and landed neatly as the hatch door closed behind it.

“Not bad for an old jalopy! Eh?” The driver opened the cockpit and patted the speeder’s control panel. He tossed Aziraphale a proud smirk as he lifted his goggles to rest on the top of his head.

Aziraphale gasped. It seemed their rescuer’s smile wasn’t the only thing that was serpentine. His eyes were bright yellow with vertical pupils that gave some ancient part of Aziraphale’s brain a thrill. They were impossible, and they were beautiful _, and they were alive. _Oh! They were all alive! And free! And alive!__

Aziraphale couldn’t help it, he exploded into hysterical laughter. Loud, manic peals that he just couldn’t stop.

The other two joined in. Dog made a whining noise at the three of them and waved an appendage from its back end, whacking the limb on Adam’s leg.

They all sat there giggling helplessly for a long time.

Eventually it tapered off, leaving them all feeling a bit lightheaded.

“Hi.” The stranger focused his saffron eyes on Aziraphale, breathless. “I’m Crowley.”

“Aziraphale.” He replied, equally breathless. “And this is Adam. And Dog.”

Crowley brushed some errant curls out of Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley was going to kiss him. (This is usually the part in holos where they kiss.) He wondered if he wanted him to.

“Nice to meet you.” Crowley leaned closer.

“Why didn’t you tell me we were going to have company?!” A young and cranky voice groused from above. It was the same voice from the speeder Comms, minus the tinny aspect.

Aziraphale startled, and realized he was still holding Crowley’s hand, although his grip was far more gentle than during their petrifying escape. He glanced up and around them, observing their surroundings.

On a metal catwalk above them stood a dark haired boy, not much older than Adam, looking down at them with a peevish expression. “We’re going to have to split our rations four ways now!”

“Stop your bellyaching and start explaining what you did to my ship!” Crowley snapped, instantly all business, and he released Aziraphale’s hand as he sat up.

“It’s camouflage! They’ll be so busy looking at the design they won’t be paying attention to what she really looks like.”

“That’s--huh. That’s not bad thinking, actually.”

“Plus it gives people a headache.”

“Yeah alright, but you better change it back before we land anywhere.”

The boy grinned and sauntered down the flight of steel grated steps attached to the catwalk, shifting his gaze to Adam. He eyed him unsurely, sizing him up, and Adam gazed curiously back. Adam must have passed muster, because he smiled a sideways grin and offered his hand. “Welcome aboard the Bentley 6. My name’s Warlock, and I will be your pilot for this flight.” He assisted Adam out of the speeder. Dog jumped out to explore its new surroundings. Warlock regarded it with bafflement, but decided to ask later.

He led Adam away by the hand. “Come on. You can share my room. Do you like anime? I’ve got a few holos we can watch.”

Adam smiled. “A holo sounds good. My name’s Adam and that’s Dog.” And he allowed himself to be led away.

“I’ll clear out a space for you to make yourself comfortable, Angel.” Crowley said, “you and your kid should probably hit the shower before you settle in. You smell like smoke and burnt plastic.”

“That sounds nice,” Aziraphale said softly. “Nice, hot, grounding shower.”

“Well I’ve got a nice one. Sonic Shower. Almost feels like real water.”

Sonic shower? He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but it would have to do.

“Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll look for something for you to wear. We can talk about payment later.”

★彡

Crowley had indeed found some clothes in the back of his closet that would fit his pretty traveling companion. Well, hopefully a traveling companion. Currently a client. Still pretty, though.

Crowley flexed his fingers. He could still feel the shape of Aziraphale’s well-manicured hand in his. It had been... nice. Even when he thought the angel might crush his hand in his panic, though that grip had softened once they were outside the city. It had been a long time since he’d experienced any physical contact that hadn’t been balled into a fist and coming at his face or ribs at 40 kilometers per hour.

The clothes he’d given to Aziraphale were thick and coarse; in shades of tan and brown. Nothing like the expensive white silken material the angel was wearing before. But maybe that’s a good thing. He wasn’t wandering around a smoothly safe city anymore. He needed to wear something a little more suitable for life outside the Elysian bubble.

The clothes ought to have looked drab and flabby. But they seemed to suit Aziraphale (much to Crowley’s simultaneous delight and frustration), who now was staring sightlessly out the window, tears quietly trailing down his face. He was fiddling with an object Crowley couldn’t make out. It was pinned to his tan tunic.

“I jailbroke your smartcuff.” Crowley offered it back, and Aziraphale wordlessly slid it back on to his wrist. “There were a lot of trackers in it. Somebody really wanted to keep tabs on you. You must have been someone important.”

“I was a prince... before I ran away,” came the subdued reply. Aziraphale glanced down from the window, still twiddling the small, pinned object.

“ _You what?!_ ” Crowley gaped at Aziraphale in wide-eyed surprise. _He what?_

“I ran away!” Aziraphale turned to him, nervously fidgeting. “Gabriel wanted me to unmake young Adam, but I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t just end a life and go meet friends for tea, have nice dinners, attend galas and pretend I wasn’t a monster. And if that’s the kind of man Gabriel is, then he can _marry someone else!_ ”

Crowley blinked. _Gabriel? The King of Elysium? That Gabriel?_ He was going to file away the fact that he had effectively kidnapped (rescued!) not just any rich Elysian, but a prince, and _the fiancé of one of the most powerful individuals in the seven systems, at that!_ for Future Crowley to deal with.

He needed a drink for this. Crowley poured a finger of something drinkable into tumblers for each of them, and considered what the Elysian had said.

“Warlock was born without any occult abilities.” He offered, handing the angel one of the glasses. “I was told to leave him in the Wastes as a sacrifice to the Fates. And you know what?” He pulled his cousins’ tracking fob from his jacket pocket and dropped it into his own drink. The fob sparked dramatically before dying. “ _Fuck_ whatever model citizen they think belongs in their society.” He reached over and tenderly brushed the tears from Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale’s still-damp lashes fluttered a bit as he looked down, and he reached up to fumble with the tacky, expensive-looking brooch he had transferred from his silky clothes. It was made of Alterean gold, with a large amethyst (probably from somewhere conflict ridden) in the center. A not inconsiderable fortune in his hands. The angel removed it and pressed the jewel into Crowley’s free hand, the one that still lingered near Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Here. I don’t have much, but this should compensate you for your assistance and passage to a settled world.”

“It’ll make for some nice groceries, but maybe you should hang on to it.” Crowley set down his tumbler, pinned the jewel back on the angel’s tunic, and tapped it gently with his fingertip.

Aziraphale contemplated him quizzically.

“It’s just, I was thinking. Warlock could use someone his age around here. And I could definitely use a hand. Keeping the Bentley running, I mean. And... I was thinking... you could stay a while?”

Aziraphale considered the idea for a moment. “That sounds reasonable. Adam seems to be getting on with young Master Warlock, and it would be a shame to separate them now when Adam needs some stability.”

He reached out to shake Crowley’s hand, and smiled.

“Intergalactic outlaws. Well, I’ll be damned.”

Crowley smiled back. “It’s not so bad when you get used to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Awesome art by [Azeher ](https://twitter.com/azeher_may?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor) On twitter!


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